Someone might as well roll up the whole sky, pack it away for good.

The architecture of my sister's thinking, now phantom. I fall down stairs that are nothing but air.

He murmers into my hair, "Forget what I said earlier, let's stick with this, I might not survive anything more." I laugh. Then he jumps up, finds my wrists, and pins them over my head. "Yeah, right. Totally joking, I want to do everything with you, whenever you're ready, I'm the one, promise?" He's above me, batting and grinning like a total hooplehead. "I promise," I say. "Good. Glad that's decided." He raises an eyebrow. "I'm going to deflower you, John Lennon.

It's as if someone vacuumed up the horizon while we were looking the other way.

I wonder why bereaved people even bother with mourning clothes when the grief itself provides such an unmistakable wardrobe.

Years ago, I was crashed in gram’s garden and Big asked me what I was doing. I told him I was looking up at the sky. He said, “That’s a misconception, Lennie, the sky is everywhere, it begins at your feet.

In one split second I saw everything I could be, everything I want to be. And all that I'm not.